


Cheap Imitation Midweek Challenge #3

by dairesfanficrefuge_archivist



Category: Highlander - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-12-31
Updated: 1999-12-31
Packaged: 2018-12-18 06:31:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11868636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist/pseuds/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist
Summary: Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived atDaire's Fanfic Refuge. Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDaire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile.





	Cheap Imitation Midweek Challenge #3

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Daire's Fanfic Refuge](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Daire%27s_Fanfic_Refuge). Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Daire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/dairesfanficrefuge/profile).

 

CIMWC #3

**Cheap Imitation Midweek Challenge #3**

* * *

**Eternal Life's A Beach... by La-La lander  
Cause and Effect by Ysanne **

* * *

**Eternal Life's A Beach...  
by LA-LA lander**

Warning: I fear the tone of this may have been influenced by my being forced to read the rancid P.Miano Bad Joke #13. I may be suffering from brain poisoning. 

Regardless of how anyone else feels about them, these CIMWC's seem to be cathartic for moi! This is another one that kept me awake at night--no doubt purging demons from my subconscious. Now if only something really *good* would keep me awake (about 6' tall, brown hair, rippling muscles). Aaaaanyway... 

* * *

Scene: Duncan has let himself be talked into joining Methos on a vacation trip to the Bahamas. Our heroes are decked out in jams, Hawaiian shirts, shades and flip-flops. Carrying towels and umbrellas out onto the sand, they approach some beach chairs and a low table set up a dozen yards from the surf by their hotel. 

Methos: This looks like a good spot. 

Duncan: It really surprises me that you wanted to come to the beach, Methos. 

Methos: Why is that? 

Duncan: Well, given your feelings about the ocean...the monks in a rowboat and all that... 

Methos: That's why the water is out *there*, and we are safely over *here* on the sand. 

A waiter approaches and asks to take their drink order. 

Methos continues: And there are nice waiters to bring us beer. (To the waiter) I'll have a beer-in fact, bring me two so you won't have to come back. (To Duncan) What's not to like? 

Duncan: Mineral water please. (To Methos) You know you shouldn't drink alcohol in the sun and heat; you'll get dehydrated. 

Methos (patronizingly): That's why we have beach umbrellas, MacLeod. 

Duncan: I don't know, Methos, you just don't seem like a hang-at-the-beach kind of guy. 

Methos: I'll have you know that I was a semi-professional surfer in the 60's. 

Duncan: Was that A.D. or B.C.? 

Methos: Very funny. 

Duncan: *I* thought so. 

Methos: Uuurrrgh! Aaaauuuugh! 

Duncan: What!? 

Methos: That guy! Look at him! The old guy in the Speedo! He must be ninety years old and a hundred pounds overweight. From the front it looks like he's not wearing anything! And the full-body fur...Uuurgh! There ought to be a law against that! 

Duncan: Methos! He's just a guy on vacation enjoying himself at the beach. What's your problem? 

Methos: A wise man once said, 'Wearing Lycra is a privilege, not a right.' 

Duncan (skeptically): And what 'wise man' was that? 

Methos: Okay, so I heard two Valley Girls say it in the grocery line, but it's no less true! Anyway, who wears Speedos these days? Competition swimmers and Euro-trash! 

Duncan: Since when did you become the fashion police? 

Methos: Aaauuugh! No!! I can't take it! Uuurgh! Look at that! 

Duncan: Now what? 

Methos: That guy's wife is wearing a thong! Oh, the humanity!! 

Duncan: Methos! 

Methos: Where the heck is my beer!? 

They both feel the buzz of an approaching immortal. They look left and then right, and see none other than Connor MacLeod approaching them from the direction of the water. He is dripping wet and wearing...a blue Speedo! Methos and Duncan look at each other and burst out laughing. 

Connor: Heh, heh, heh! What's so funny my friends? Or are you just happy to see me? 

Duncan (giggling): Connor, you're wearing...a Speedo! 

Methos: Well, he *is* Euro-trash, after all. 

Connor: Actually, I'm also a competition swimmer. 

Methos and Duncan look at each other and back at Connor in disbelief. 

Connor: That's right. I joined the Masters swim team at the New York 'Y' and we're here training for a championship meet. 

Methos: The Masters team? Didn't you have your first death at about age 20? 

Connor: Heh, heh, heh! Well, yes, but technically, I'm over 50. Heh, heh! And all those years in Sanctuary with blueberry Kool-Aid and Windex pumping through my veins made me look older, so I qualified for the Masters team. It's kind of fun--since I'm actually only 20 I can beat everyone, but since I look 50 no one can figure out why. Heh, heh, heh! 

Duncan (looking very dejected): Connor...I'm sorry Connor...I... 

Connor: Duncan, how many times do we have to go through this? You didn't kill me. See? I'm right here! It was all a bad dream you had after eating some tainted haggis or something, heh, heh, heh. 

Duncan: But Kell seemed so real...and the memories of Kate... 

Connor: Duncan, Duncan, Duncan. Let's review. You were never married. Kell was a young priest in my village who saved my mother from being burned at the stake by a bunch of zealots who thought I was a demon after I came back to life. He wasn't immortal. He lived to be about ninety, and even though he was a priest he had at least a dozen children in different parts of the territory. He was a very good friend of mine. 

Duncan (still looking disbelieving): I know, Connor, I know. But my dream--it's like it was in Technicolor or something. It's hard to believe it wasn't real. 

Connor: What *I* can't believe is that it took you ten years to miss me after those renegade Watchers blew up my antique store and dragged me off to Sanctuary against my will! I was starting to give up hope. 

Duncan (now defensive): Well, things were a little hectic, what with Tessa getting killed and Richie becoming Immortal, and the renegade Watchers trying to kill me and expose all the Immortals to the media. And then there was that whole debacle with Ahriman... 

Connor: Sure, sure, so you were busy, but would it have hurt you to try calling me once in awhile? 

Methos: This is all very touching, but the real question is, *where* is that darned waiter with my beer?! 

Connor: Heh, heh, heh! It's nice to know some things never change. 

Methos: Yes, speaking of which, just look what you've done to Duncan. I had him reasonably cheerful, and now he's back to being all broody again. 

Connor: You're right Methos. Here we are in the Bahamas, we should all be having a wonderful time. So, you know why I'm here, but you haven't told me what you two are doing in the tropics? 

Methos (with his trademark smirk): Just taking a little much deserved vacation. 

Connor (smiling knowingly): Someone after you? But why the Bahamas? You know Methos, you just don't seem like a hang-at-the-beach kind of guy to me. 

Duncan: See!! 

Methos (scowling): Well, at least Duncan is perking up again. 

Connor: Say, why don't you guys come for a swim with me? The water is perfect. 

Methos: I, uh, don't really like the ocean. 

Connor: Ah yes, heh, heh, the monks in the rowboat. Duncan, how about you? You may be younger, but I'll bet I'm faster! Heh, heh, heh. 

Duncan: All right, just give me a minute 

Duncan stands and slips off his jams to reveal underneath...a red Speedo! 

Methos: Aaaauugh! MacLeod! 

Duncan: What?! I thought I might want to go swimming! 

Connor: You should try it Methos. The chicks love a guy in a Speedo. 

Methos (mumbling): Tell that to the ninety-year-old hairy guy with the overhang. 

Duncan: Methos! 

Connor: Come on Duncan, I'll race you! Last one to the pier is a moldy haggis! 

The MacLeod boys race off toward the water in their Speedos spraying sand in their wake. 

Methos (looking annoyed): *Where* is that waiter with my *beer*? 

* * *

**Cause and Effect  
by Ysanne**

Methos strode along the hot boardwalk, wincing when he stubbed his bare toe on an uneven plank. Heat rose from the parking lot on his right in shimmering waves, reminding him of desert mirages. He thought that he probably would have pillaged ten villages for just one snow cone back then, if he had known what a snow cone was. The refreshment stand had just come into view, but it seemed to be surrounded by official vehicles. An ambulance and two police cars were parked there, and a bevy of women littered the ground like wilted flowers. Paramedics were crouching over them one by one as the police officers helped them into the shade of the refreshment stand. 

As he stepped up to the carry-out window Methos heard the officers talking. 

'From what people are saying, seems like these ladies just keeled over for no reason,' said a beefy officer, wiping his brow with a bandanna. 

'Yeah, but it sounds like they started dropping in a sort of pattern,' insisted a tall, skinny policeman. 

'What? What pattern?' 

'Well, the first few were from about a quarter mile up that way,' explained the second man, gesturing northward, 'then a few more from the same direction, but closer. Then some girls right in front here got overcome, and now they're coming from the south end of the beach. What do you make of that?' 

Methos listened, an idea dawning. He hastily paid for his blue snow cone and trotted back the way he came, from the south, grinning and shaking his head. In ten minutes of sweaty, hurried walking he spied MacLeod lounging on a quilt, reading and drinking a Coke. 

He paused to look MacLeod over, then looked back up the beach. Yes, just there - two men were supporting a drooping woman between them and heading for the boardwalk. 

'Have a good walk, MacLeod?' he asked, dropping down on the quilt and slurping at his cone. 

'How'd you know I took a walk? You've been gone half an hour.' 

'I have my ways. I suppose you went to the car first, looped around the lot and walked back down here along the beach, correct?' 

MacLeod pulled his sunglasses down his nose to regard Methos. 

'Well, yeah. Are you trying to impress me with your Sherlockian powers of deduction, or what?' 

'And I suppose the only thing you wore was that blue rubber band thing?' 

'It's a bathing suit, Methos, a Speedo. This is a beach.' 

Methos smiled smugly. 

'You might want to make a donation to the emergency services here, MacLeod,' he suggested obliquely, crunching the last bit of his ice and tossing the paper cone into the nearby trash bin. 

MacLeod regarded him for a long moment, then sighed and pushed his sunglasses back up and opened his book again. 

'I'd play twenty questions with you, Methos, but I'm too hot.' 

'Yeah,' Methos smirked as he opened his own book, 'there are number of women who might agree with that, once they regain consciousness.' 

* * *

Home 


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